A Busy Few Days
by el spirito
Summary: The last few days have been...busy, and Chekov is starting to feel the pressure. Kirk's got his back. No slash, takes place right after the movie.


A/N: Considering how obsessed I am with this movie, I can't believe I haven't written anything for it yet! I'm stoked that I finally remedied that.

xxxx

Chekov sighed and allowed his head to rest on his hands. It had been a hell of a few days, and he was absolutely exhausted. He'd expected adventure when he joined Starfleet, but this, this was beyond the wildest of his daydreams, and he'd certainly never expected it to be so emotionally draining.

"Ensign Chekov."

Pavel looked up, startled to see Captain Kirk standing there. He tried to rise quickly to his feet and ended up stumbling awkwardly and overturning his chair. Cheeks red with embarrassment as the sound of the chair clattering to the floor died away, he stood at attention.

"Keptin," he said with as much dignity as he could muster. Kirk laughed and clapped a hand on Chekov's shoulder.

"At east, Ensign," he said, then bent over and picked up Chekov's chair. "Have a seat."

Chekov complied, watching as Kirk sat down across from him, plunking a bottle of whiskey and two glasses onto the table. Pavel eyed him nervously.

"How you doing?" Kirk asked suddenly. Chekov barely kept himself from jumping in surprise.

"Sir?" Chekov said in response, then mentally berated himself for saying something so stupid to the captain. Kirk shrugged.

"The last few days have been…busy," he said. "Rough. How are you handling everything?"

Chekov examined Kirk for a minute, taking in the bruises still visible on his neck and the bags under his eyes, the he was ever so slightly guarding his ribs, and wondered if someone shouldn't be asking the captain how _he_ was doing.

"Chekov?"

"Oh, good," Pavel answered hurriedly. "I am good."

"Mmhmm," Kirk murmured, sliding one of the glasses toward Chekov. He filled both glasses, then leaned back in his chair, taking a drink. Chekov looked at him in confusion, brow furrowed.

"Sir?" he said, lifting the glass. "I am only sewenteen."

"Look Chekov, you're still just a kid," Kirk said, "but today you had to be a man. I figure it's only fair you get to drink like one."

Chekov nodded and took a tentative sip, wincing and coughing when it burned on the way down. Kirk chuckled.

"Easy, kid. And this stays between us, okay? I don't need to get nailed for supplying alcohol to a minor."

"Of course not, sir," Chekov stuttered, eyes widening.

Kirk smiled and took another drink, wincing slightly and pressing a hand to his side.

"Are you alright, sir?" Chekov asked, taking another drink of his own glass and squinting in an attempt not to react.

"I'm fine, Chekov. Bruised my ribs at some point, not sure when. Might've been when that monster thing chased me down the hill, or could've been when Nero threw me around," he said with a shrug. Chekov stared at him, amazed. A monster thing chased him down a hill?

"Dr. McCoy told you they vere bruised?" Chekov asked casually. Kirk's loose demeanor changed abruptly as he stiffened and sat up straight.

"That is none of your concern, Ensign," he said, voice hard.

"Yes sir," Chekov said. "I am sorry, sir."

Kirk waved a hand. "Don't worry about it."

Pavel nodded miserably, staring down at his drink. He didn't really want to finish it, but felt obligated, especially with the captain sitting right there. He was surprised when Kirk slid a bottle toward him.

"Figured you might not like the hard stuff," he said, and Chekov realized that he'd just been handed a bottle of soda.

"Thank you sir," he said, smiling genuinely as he took a long swig of the lemon-lime drink. That was more like it.

"So how are you liking Starfleet?" Kirk asked amiably, settling into his chair.

"Is good," Chekov answered. "Wery exciting, sir."

Kirk smiled an odd half-smile, one eyebrow raised. "It is that. Why'd you join up? You're pretty young, even if you are a genius."

"Oh," Chekov said, fidgeting with the bottle of soda. "I vas bored back home. School vas dull, and my teachers did not like it vhen I started correcting them."

The captain smirked. "I can imagine," he said, and Chekov realized that he probably could. It was no secret that Kirk was a hell of a lot smarter than he led people to believe.

"You did some pretty amazing stuff today, kid," Kirk said. "Saved my ass, and Sulu's. You saved quite a few Vulcans too, Chekov."

Pavel remained quiet, playing with the bottle of soda.

"I could not save Commander Spock's mother," he whispered, biting the inside of his lip.

Kirk was silent for a minute, swirling his glass around.

"You know, if I'd moved a bit faster, been just a tiny bit more on the ball, I might have stopped that drill from reaching Vulcan's core. I could have saved millions of people. If I could have just put the pieces together, maybe I could have stopped all those cadets from dying."

Chekov frowned, mouth dropping open.

"Keptin, that was not your fault. You saved as many people as you could. Without you, the ship would have gone down, and then Wulcan would have been entirely destroyed! You did the best you could, sir."

Kirk nodded with a smile, looking at his glass.

"That's funny," he said finally. Chekov went from indignant to confused in a matter of seconds.

"Vhat is funny?"

"That's what I was thinking about you," Kirk answered, standing. He set his glass on the table and smiled at Chekov before walking slowly away, his movements carefully measured.

Pavel sat alone at the table for a few minutes, lost in thought, the captain's words running through his head.

"Hey Chekov," a voice said, startling Pavel from his reverie.

"Hi Sulu," he answered, barely looking up as Sulu sat across from him.

"So I was talking to Wilson from engineering, and we both think that Kirk's gonna get a ship when we get back to the Academy. Can you imagine? I mean, the last time we were there he was getting nailed for academic dishonesty, and he's going to come back a full on captain! He's going to get a ship for sure. Do you think so?"

"Yeah," Chekov answered. "Yeah, I think he might."


End file.
